The Will of the Titans
by LilyPrincess
Summary: Dick, Vic, Garfield, and Raven four teens having one thing in common: the fact that they have nothing in common. Well...there is one thing. She goes by the name of Kori.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans and anything else recognizable.

* * *

Before the era of the legendary Teen Titans of Jump City, calm had swept all around the rather large suburb of Gothem City, save one place. As always, school– more important, _high_ school– always created the best, most intriguing and juicy drama known to man. It was only a given that the one public high school in Jump City– named, unoriginally, Jump City High– would ensue twice the amount of daily emotional wonder a normal high school supplies, based solely on four random, individual students.

One of them, currently, was in the shadows of a more discreet part of the outside campus, his suspicious eyes darting sneakily around at the passing giggling, laughing students.

Pulling the boy's attention away from the carefree kids was a voice laced with slight skepticism. "Serious Arfy, don't ya think this prank could have been a little more complex? What kind of byzantine message are we trying to display across the school with a few measly stink bombs?"

"Are you kidding?" Garfield Logan, a trademark class clown decked out to a T with the handy accessories such as rainbow suspenders, colorful pants filled with skillful attribute– i.e. a red clown nose, chattering, coiled teeth, and an unattached, water-shooting flower– and a cap sporting a 'thumbs-up' on the brim of it's blue fabric, said with a mischievous grin, "Never, never speak ill of the classics, Luke." With his green eyes– which happened to match his eerie green skin and hair– Garfield looked up to his slightly taller companion, Luke Brisky, and went on as snippily as he could, "And _don't_ call me Arfy! Call me _Gar_. It's much cooler."

"That's debatable," a passerby taunted as his hand reached out to yank the hat off Garfield's head, pushing it down on his own black hair. The black haired boy's friends snickered as he shot Garfield and Luke a rude smirk before continuing on into the building. One of his followers bumped shoulders with Luke, another soundly pushing the much smaller Garfield back, causing him to loose balance and fall into a pile of mud. More laughter was barked, only to be dulled by their entrance into the school and the door slamming shut behind them.

With a sigh, Garfield picked himself back up and wiped his green hand over his shirt, shuddering an emitting a girly squeak when he pulled back and saw the brown mud cover it completely. "Gross," he moaned.

"Don't get all soprano on my, _Gar_," Luke enunciated, rolling his eyes. Garfield's eyes followed Luke as said kid walked to a bench and sat his ragged, red backpack down on the bench and pulled the zipper open. "Luckily, due to last week's occurrence, I vowed to myself that I would always carry spare clothes." He pulled out a mustard yellow T-shirt at that moment, accentuating his point, and tossed it over to the smaller boy, "There."

"Thanks, man," Garfield said, picking up his own backpack and walking towards the school, "I'll just make a stop at the bathroom before English class."

Luke snickered and followed, "You're really weird about changing in front of people."

"Hey," Garfield was quick to defend himself, "I'm not exactly the type of guy babes are gonna drool over. I'm the type of guy that passes the girls out by the mere sight of my body. I'm not about to have twenty or so of these girls," Garfield looked back longingly at the gentler sex still surrounding the school building, "drop unconscious all because of me."

Luke burst out laughing as he opened the door, making to go in before Garfield went on with another squeal. "What?" Luke asked, turning around to stare at him oddly. Garfield had his head turned to stare over his shoulders and down at his bottom. Luke followed his gaze and instantly barked out laughter.

"Dude, it's not funny!" said Garfield, still staring down at the large mud spot concealing almost all of his backside, "You've got a spare pair of shorts or jeans or something, don't you?"

"Yeah," Luke laughed, "but you're not getting those."

"What?" Garfield exploded.

"Dude, I'm not lending you my fatigues. That's just weird," said Luke, calming slightly.

"_Dude_," Garfield continued as Luke turned around and entered the building. He followed him in, chattering pleadingly.

* * *

"Oh, hello, Raven," greeted the plump, happy librarian who always insisted on wearing a name tag, sporting a clear 'Mrs. Plato' above her right breast pocket. She was standing behind the checkout counter, stamping the inside covers of a large pile of books. Flashing the newcomer a bright grin, Mrs. Plato continued, "It's been a bit busy in here today. I think you'll have your hands quite full restocking the shelves."

Inwardly, Raven Roth, with her dark violet hair, pale skin, dressed in a black, long sleeved, knee-length skirt, with netted stockings covering the rest of her legs that weren't ranged over with her large combat boots, groaned. At that point in the school year, she really had no idea why she signed on as a library aid. Mrs. Plato was a dear, of course, but her over-maternal instincts mostly made Raven's skin crawl. It took more effort that it was worth just to suppress shudders from shaking her form.

At first, the thought of spending an hour out of the day in the library with books instead of inside a stuffy classroom with her peers was incredibly appealing. That was before she had personally met Mrs. Plato, and realized that her time there wouldn't be spent in solitude without work. No, she had to assist students too stupid enough not to find a book in the _alphabetized _library, sort through the different genres of literature, and walk around with piles upon piles of the pages in her arms to return them to their original locations.

Not that she hated some work, but she would have rather sat in the most secluded area and read, away from people.

With a discreet sigh, Raven nodded and picked up a pile, "Be back in a few hours," she muttered sarcastically and inaudibly, looking back at the rest of the piles.

"Raven, hey Roth," the voice penetrated through her thoughts as Raven walked over to a random shelf and began to place a few of the books in their appropriate location. She looked over her shoulder and saw another girl her age standing their, dressed in the same shades and style as she herself was.

"Genevieve," she acknowledged, looking at the spine of another book to look for the author's last name. Looking back up, she brushed a hair out of her eyes and said, "What's up?"

"Just heard from Quentin before third," Genevieve immediately jumped in, flicking a spiral, bright red, curl from her face, "There's a local band concert downtown tonight around nine. You're coming, right?"

Raven stocked another book, "I don't know. Probably not with the way my mom and I parted this morning."

"Raven," Genevieve huffed and leaned against a bookshelf, crossing her arms over her black shirt, "I didn't skip fourth period to personally inform you of this and have you _decline_."

Raven shrugged and continued on with her actions.

"Quentin will be disappointed," her friend went on, with a small smirk. She knew that would hit a nerve, "He distinctly told me to tell you about it."

To Genevieve's satisfaction, Raven paused her movements, then slowly turned to face her. "Alright," she conceded, "Fine, I'll be there tonight."

"First and main," Genevieve informed her with a grin, "the old warehouse. We'll be there around nine-thirty, so be on time."

"Am I ever late?" Raven mumbled as she went back to her job, and Genevieve walked out.

* * *

"And. . ._begin!_"

Instantly, cheers and undecipherable shouts sounded, and echoed, throughout the school cafeteria. A large crowd filled with students, and some teachers, was huddled around two mobile figures.

"Bust him down, Stone!"

"Waste him!"

Victor Stone, tall, dark and handsome as he was normally, was now the picture perfect image of a famished pig, his cheeks bulging out from the twelve full french fries and a forced-in bite of one of the numerous cheeseburgers that lay before him and his opponent, Grant Stewart– an acquaintance of Vic's, equal in size and stamina, with red, shaggy hair. It had all started out innocently enough, with Grant lightly jesting about how much of a sissy Vic was for not springing for another burger. Vic had retaliated by 'accidently' knocking Grant's own burger off the side of the table with his elbow. That's when Grant suggested a food competition.

After a little flirting with a lunch lady, Grant had gotten them a free supply of cheeseburgers to consume. All it took was a few people to get out the large box of already made burgers and drag it to the table, and they were set.

"What's it up to?" someone asked from the crowd to her friend.

"Vic had five so far, Grant's on his fifth," a younger boy answered.

If he could have, Vic would had chuckled tauntingly to Grant. All he could do though, for the moment, was to let his eyes show the humor in all this as he connected gazes with his advisory.

"I'm surprised a teacher hasn't broken this up yet," a girl with a disproving look on her face frowned at the show in front of her.

"Are you kidding, Bree?" a guy standing next to her with his arm encircled around her waist pulled her closer, "The teachers are supporting it. Look," he laughed.

The art teacher, Mr. Thesase, must have heard, because he stood up straighter and stared somewhat sheepishly at a few of the kids that had turned his way. He grinned and shrugged his bulky shoulders before going back to watching the food competition.

It went on for another five minutes before the first sign of hesitation reached either one of them. That act of indecisiveness was made by Grant, discreetly looking to Vic as the other boy just happily munched down the remains of his eighth burger. Instantly, Grant went back to his seventh, with a lot more force and determination.

"Dude, watch them go!" Garfield's inimitable voice was heard only slightly over the crowd's buzz.

Vic downed another burger, beginning to feel the unmistakable feeling of fullness in his gut, but persisted. Grant narrowed his eyes slightly, and pushed half of another burger in his mouth. Vic pushed an entire one into his mouth, struggling to chew. A few kids had to hold back some to prevent them from clapping the participants on the shoulders.

With a harder glare, Grant reached out his hand for yet another burger, instantly forcing the whole thing into his mouth, fighting to chew. Tied, neck in neck, at ten.

Suddenly, Grant's jaw stopped it's movements, his eyes widening. His hand went limp, causing the large slab of meat to fall with the bun to his plate. Vic kept going for a few moments, not noticing his friend's pause. The crowd did, though, as the murmurs grew, matching the way Grant's eyes grew.

Looking up, Vic's jaw stopped as he stared at his friend with confusion.

"Mrat," he said in a questioning tone, the food in his mouth keeping his voice muffled.

Grant raised a hand to his neck, beginning to turn slightly purple. Vic spit out his foot and stood, as the people around him caught on to what was happening.

"Oh my God, he's choking!" someone screeched.

Frantic shouts sounded around, a few people running off to inform the nurse. Vic jogged around the table and began to firmly hit Grant on the back. "Grant!" he exclaimed, a few more of their friends coming around.

Someone pushed through the crowd. Someone with black hair, and a blue 'thumbs up' cap.

"Out of the way!" he snapped at some freshmen, coming up to Vic's side, momentarily staring down at Grant.

The teachers that had been watching the food competition also pushed forward, making themselves useful and keeping the growing crowd back. Quickly, the guy stood Grant up and began the heimlich maneuver.

Vic watched with bated breath, growing more and more nervous as Grant grew bluer.

"Yo, Dick, man, are you sure you know what you're doing?" Vic asked the black-haired guy, who in turn stared back at him for a moment.

"Yeah," he said gruffly.

Just as Blake, one of Vic and Grant's friends a few feet away, was going to open his mouth and have someone else do something, Grant coughed, a large piece of hamburger flying across the crowd to hit Garfield straight on in the center of his forehead. He squeaked and fell back against a group of five girls, each one of them screaming as they lost their balance and fell to the ground, Garfield right on top of them.

With much louder shrieks, Garfield flew off of the girls, blushing like mad while the group cursed at him, quite a few guys laughing.

Gasping for precious oxygen, Grant leaned against the table, pushing away his friends' worried arms and hands. "I'm fine," he said amidst murmurs and mumbles, "I'm fine. I just need to sit. . ." with that, he collapsed back to his seat.

"Who won?" he asked at once, his eyes traveling back up to Vic.

Vic narrowed his gaze and shrugged, "I don't know!"

"Hey, Dick, thanks, man," Grant said, turning his gaze to the slightly shorter guy as he stood again, clapping him on the back.

"No prob, Stewart," Dick said, smirking slightly, "It was bound to happen sooner or later with the way you stuff your face."

Grant grinned good-naturedly as Vic clapped Dick on the back, wrapping his arm around his neck and pulling him closer, taking his other hand to bestow a mighty noogie on the hero's hair.

* * *

A/N: Hey all. Hope you like. It's my first Teen Titan fic, so go easy. Don't worry, Starfire will make her appearance soon. For future reference, this will be a Starfire/Robin fic later on. 


	2. Stink bombs and black silk tank tops

"Right, then," Grant spoke up, still letting out a few post-choke coughs. "I think I'm gonna play this for all it's worth and skip the rest of the day."

Dick looked over with a raised eyebrow, "Your parents'll let you skip the rest of the day?" He himself had a hard enough time getting his guardian to let him retreat home for the rest of the day if he blew chunks nonstop in the boys' bathroom. Of course, Bruce Wayne was strict about things he believed Dick to absolutely abhor. Thus the main reason Dick still took martial arts at his age– the fact that he hated his very first lesson, creating a domino effect to bring each one thereafter that much more agonizing.

Grant grinned and said, "Live with my grandma. . ." he laughed loudly, starting to walk off from the still entrapped crowd, "She freaks if I have a runny nose. . .now, _that_ came in handy when the Buweski twins came in to town for a day," he called back over his shoulders, earning some appraising cheers from the majority of the gathered people.

Vic turned back to Dick, relief in his eyes. "You really saved my butt, man."

Dick raised an eyebrow and said, "I just saved your pal's butt."

"Sure, but what would have happened if something did happen to Grant? I'd be suspended, kicked off the football team, shunned by–,"

"Yo, Vic, man, let's go, McGregor'll have our asses if we're late again," one of the guys from the crowd called out, winking and grinning at a few female onlookers. This action resulted in a few flirtatious grins in return, the girls instantly turning around and beginning to chatter energetically with each other.

Vic shrugged at Dick and discreetly indicated the guy and the others he began laughing with. "Them," Vic finished, staring at the group for a few moments. Turning back to Dick, who had taken to grinning at a few select femme fatales himself, Vic clapped the slightly shorter guy ono the shoulder again, "Anyways, thanks."

Dick shrugged, his attention thinning away from Vic. His darting blue eyes began to scan the crowd that had started to diminish, coming across a few standoffish people he didn't dare mind to approach. "Later, Stone," he called over his shoulder at the already retreating football player.

"Are you done now?" one of the girls he approached asked somewhat stuffily, glancing down at her purple watch with piercing eyes.

"Great, now we're gonna be late to physics," another one gushed, searching her bag for something.

Dick rolled his eyes and said, "He was choking. What'd you expect me to do?"

The girl with the purple watch sighed and stared at Dick, "Let someone else handle it. You think it's going to be easy to slip past all these teachers in the hall now? I wanted to stop by the mall and pick up a few accessories. Now, there's no way we can we out of here unnoticed."

"Kitten," the one that had just brought her head up from her bag whined, "If I don't show up for class today, that makes for _seven_ unexcused absences. Mr. Harp already has my mom's number on speed dial. I'll be slaughtered if I'm caught ditching again."

"Then don't get caught Julie," Kitten snapped, flipping her hair back and turning to look at the guy standing mutely behind her, "We'll take Fang's car."

"We'll be caught," Julie almost screeched, causing Fang and Dick to wince, then glare.

Dick's eyes hardened more so as he wordlessly dropped his bag on a nearby table and pulled it open. Bringing out a phone, he continued to glare in the three's direction as his fingers flew over the dial pad. "Hello, this is Mr. Conners. I'm calling to excuse Julie Conners from the rest of her classes this afternoon. . ." Kitten and Julie exchanged smirks as Dick went on, "Uh-huh. . .yes. . .yes, a private matter. . .yes. . .alright, thanks." With that, he threw his phone back in his back.

"There," he snapped, hauling his backpack onto his shoulders. Just as Fang was going to open his mouth and direct the towards his car, all four of their expressions dropped.

"Ugh!" Kitten screeched, "What is that smell!"

Pretty much every other occupant in the cafeteria was muttering something along those lines.

"That smells horrible."

A couple pulled their lips apart, staring stiffly at one another. Instantly, they blinked, catching on to the other's expression and pulled back. "It wasn't _me_!" they both cried out simutaneously.

A few people passing along had their noses plugged, walking quickly towards the exit of the large room, "Dude," one of the guys with a deep voice spoke, "it smells like–,"

"Shit," Fang muttered to the three, "Let's get the hell out of here. I'm parked out in the faculty lot." Dick started forward, coming to a cursed halt as a green freshman ran along, squeaking as a teacher grew hotter on his tail.

"It wasn't me!" the kid's voice trailed along well after they had passed the four.

They all exchanged incredulous looks, then shook their heads. "This school is getting ridiculous," Dick muttered to himself as he and his group joined the large throng of students all uncannily eager to get to their next class in hopes of avoiding the rotting spell of a few obviously strong stink bombs.

* * *

After all the piles of books had been taken care of, Mrs. Plato had mercifully allowed Raven to leave a few minutes early, an act from which Raven was grateful. During her supposedly 'quiet time' away from the mass of students this school held, the library had somehow become a place of popularity. And, the chatter came along, too.

As she had passed along one table to make her way to the reference section, some numbskull had strategically placed his right foot out slightly from under the table, right in her path. Because the length of the pile of books had reached well past her head, the act had gone unnoticed to Raven, who voluntarily tripped to the ground, the books flying every where. A few moans and shrieks from random tables told anyone with ears that those flying books had achieved quite some impressive distances, reaching and hitting a few of the occupants.

Gritting her teeth, a few of the bookshelves around her shook discreetly, almost unnoticed. Taking a long, deep breath, Raven stood up once more and directed her attention to a rather amused table, one of the boys sitting there beaming with a certain amount of vainglory and pride.

"Sorry," he murmured, holding back the snickers his companions were unable to keep in. Without another word, he went back to his friends, mumbling some choice words that caused them to laugh slightly louder. Raven's upper lip curled, dying to be allowed the right to flap and voice her opinion of the guy. What she did, however, was ignore her lip's plea and calmly turn around and begin to gather the fallen books.

Now that that fiasco had passed, Raven walked to and out the doors to the library, relieved. . .that was until she inhaled.

Her already pale face drained of even more color as her eyes hardened and darted around the empty hall. "Did Grant Stewart blow chunks _again_?" she asked the empty corridors, taking a deep gulp of air through her mouth and holding it, uncharacteristically hurrying down the smelly hall.

As she rounded a corner, she experimentally breathed in again, only to all but wince at the product of her analysis. Where was this, all over the school? The retching smell of the mysterious odor was not forgotten even as Raven's watering eyes feel upon a few approaching figures. . .and one was squealing like. . .

Before she had a chance to blink, a green kid swerved past her, barely acknowledging the fact that he had almost plummeted in to someone, "It wasn't me, duuuuuuuuude. . ." his voice trailed off as he rounded the corner, out of her sight. Instantly, a few sharply dressed adults jogged past, a woman and a man. The woman kept going, her nostrils flaring angrily, "Young man," her annoyingly high voice called out as she, too, rounded the corner. The man, though, halted his steps at Raven's high, panting pathetically as he clutched a stitch at his side.

"Do. . .you," he gasped out, his sweaty, red face making the hairs on the back of Raven's neck stand on end in well-concealed disgust, "have a. . .pass. . .young lady?"

Raven stared at him, raising an eyebrow wordlessly.

"Peter!" the woman's shrill voice called out from the other hall. The man in front of Raven gave a start and, at once, forgot his own question and ran off without another word.

The young boy's pleads could still be heard almost all too clearly a few seconds after Raven become the sole occupant of that hall once more.

With a roll of her eyes, she continued her strides, doing her best to breath through her mouth and not gag at the still strong smell of what she could now safely assume to be stink bombs. "Freshmen," she muttered to her own junior self.

* * *

"Richie," came the squawky voice of Julie from her dressing closet. With a roll of his eyes, Dick practically threw down the multicolored heap of clothing attached to extremely hefty price tags that Julie had been carelessly tossing into his arms for the past two hours. Fang and Kitten, the hormones-with-legs they were, had ventured off in a totally different direction upon their arrival at Jump City's shopping mall. That left Dick with the walking credit card, complete with an abundance of her father's in addition.

"By gods, woman," Dick walked up to the door separating the two, "What do you want?"

"Richie, could you please toss the black silk tank top over the top of the door," she asked in an overly sweet, pleading voice.

Wordlessly, Dick grumbled over to the pile he had tossed on the floor and started to throw around the skimpy articles of clothing blocking him from the intended top. Finally, his hand seized the black top and he forcefully threw it over the door.

"Thanks, Richie," she said in a sing-song voice. Dick shuddered and stared off at the rest of the store. Catching the gaze of a few of his peers he recognized to be in the same physics class with him, he nodded as they waved and grinned.

"Richie," the voice floated out from the dressing closet again.

Dick gritted his teeth and walked to the door again. "Call me Richie again, and I'm ditching you here and now," he murmured to the door.

Julie sighed from the other side and said in a way Dick could practically see her eyes rolling, "You're too serious, _Richard_. Just have fun. . .oh, and give me the pink, flower-printed skirt."

"To hell with this," he muttered to himself, jerking his head back to get the hair out of his eyes. He walked off throughout the store, anything to get the sound of nails-on-chalkboard from his mind. As he walked along, a few brunettes caught his eye, tempting him to wink at them. He obliged, and they giggled.

As he smirked, still walking and gazing behind him at the girls, he wasn't quite watching where he was going. His head didn't even snap back to the forward direction until he felt someone bump shoulders with him. About ready to open his mouth and give whoever the offending person a piece of his mind, all thoughts left him. His 'offender' was a pretty redheaded girl with. . .orange skin and _really_ unnaturally green eyes. Doing a double take, he almost didn't hear her words until he saw her drop down to her knees and pick up a few of her fallen sweaters and shirts.

"My apologies," her sweet voice floated to his ears, pausing all his moves until he was just standing there, immobile, mute, and thoughtless. Upon standing, the strange, stunning girl smiled brightly at him, momentarily touching his shoulder, "I see there is no physical harm to your body. I, too, am completely intact."

She paused, as though waiting for something.

Realizing what he was doing– how uncool he was being– Dick closed his slack-jawed mouth and shook his head slightly. "Oh um. . ." _Bite her head off. . .swear at her. . .make her sorry. . ._ his inner voice urged. "No problem," he found himself uttering, a goofy grin making its way to his face.

"Oh, Richard," a voice sounded behind him, bringing him back to the present, back to reality.

With an inaudible sigh, Dick turned from the redhead and stared at the smiling Julie.

"Kitten just called me. They want to meet us over at the food court," Julie went on, grasping Dick's hand and pulling him off.

* * *

A/N: Hey guys, thanks for the reviews. Those always make me smile. Hope you liked this chapter. R&R if you have the time. 


	3. One scene madness

"Richard," a loud, commanding voice boomed and echoed through the large parlor Dick had stepped into not a minute prior after disposing his jacket carelessly on the floor. With a frown, knowing what was to come, Dick sighed and dug his fists into the pockets of his jeans. His eyes searched along the exquisitely decorated walls of the warm room with a terribly cold atmosphere. Reflections of his own eyes stared back at him from the mirrors so strategically placed around the sitting room. They were each hung with one intention in mind: so from whichever entrance one chose to enter, Bruce Wayne, from his seat at the plush, red velvet chair facing the fireplace, would be able to let his eyes travel up precisely thirty inches to gaze into the mirror hanging just above the mantle. The reflection of whomever had entered would stare back at him, having bounced off of one mirror, to another to reach Bruce's eyes.

At that moment, Dick's entrance was witnessed just as any other time by the mysterious man. And Dick knew it, but didn't care enough to wipe the scowl from his usually impassive face. Just grinding his fists harder into his pockets, Dick muttered a sour, "What?" to his guardian.

Coming from the front of the chair was the hand of Bruce, waving him over, not moving a muscle to turn and stare at the younger boy in the eye, "Come here, please," he spoke, ever the polite one.

Well aware the older man could see it, Dick rolled his eyes and let out a quite audible sigh. "Here we go," he muttered just loud enough for Bruce to hear.

"Don't use that tone with me, Richard," came Bruce's warning.

Approaching his side, Dick made no effort to respond a defense for himself. Instead, he said shortly, "I'm here, what do you want?"

Bruce, with a glass of Chardonnay in one hand, stared pensively up at the boy he, only at times, considered a son. For a moment, neither spoke, only sized one another up silently. Finally turning back to his beverage, Bruce spoke once more, this time in a lighter tone, "Your school called again."

"Well, they've called in vain before; I'm sure they're calling without reason again," Dick spoke, as he flopped down on the couch next to the chair, his limbs sprawled about lazily. He took a moment of peaceful meditation, closing his eyes, knowing his comment would not go by without indignation.

Surprising him, though, Bruce only heaved an annoyed sigh and rubbed his temples. Almost experimentally, Dick slowly opened one eyelid and took a peak at his guardian. The firelight splashed around the room, buttering the two sole occupants with a golden hue. That didn't null out the flash of Bruce's eyes, though, as he seemed to ignore Dick for the time being. Dick, on his part, was astonished. He'd just advertently provoked the mysterious multimillionaire, and his ears were still pure of Bruce's verbal wrath that evening. This either meant one of two things:

#1: Bruce had a another one of his sadistic plans up his sleeve, and he was just feigning his equanimity for the sake of letting Dick's heart drop further once it was revealed.

Or

#2: Bruce needed Dick's assistance.

Personally, Dick hoped to God above it was the latter. He'd been victim to one of Bruce's brutal schemes, and it wasn't a walk in the park.

"Richard," Bruce's sudden statement pulled Dick from his thoughts. Frowning, Dick held his tongue back from voicing his earlier words about his real name. Bruce went on, oblivious to Dick's stewing fury, "My notorious speech usually created from your childish games won't be heard tonight." He elegantly swirled the liquid in his glass around as he went on, "I have a more important matter to discuss with you."

Instantly, Richard's interests perked as he leaned forward. "More trouble in Gothum?" he asked at once, his heart thumping wildly. It was only on rare occasions would Bruce allow Dick to accompany Batman as Robin on his nightly rituals. The older man would swear on his mother's grave that Dick was too emotionally impulsive with serious matters the general public entrusted to Batman.

"Nothing that concerns you," came Bruce's brisk answer as he turned in his chair to look the younger boy in the eye, metaphorically crushing Dick's hopes. With a quite audible sigh, Dick flopped back in his seat again, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Then what's this about?" he asked somewhat bitterly, looking around the room, another thought coming to mind, "And where's Alfred?" Usually, the kind, old man was fiddling with one thing or another, but Dick hadn't seen him since that morning.

"Someone has come to my attention this morning after you left for Jump City High," said Bruce, "And Alfred is attending to that matter at this moment. They'll be down momentarily."

"They." Dick echoed emotionlessly, taking to tapping his fingers against the side of the couch, resting his chin in his palm. "How many visitors are you taking in this time, Bruce? And, are you going to make me entertain them_ again_?"

"Just one," Bruce's tone was light, almost– dare he think it– _amused_. No, Bruce Wayne never got amused, least of all to Dick. "And, yes, I'm going to place you in charge of entertainment."

Losing his composure for a moment, Dick jumped up, ready to throw the most childish of tantrums if he had to. There was no way he was going to sacrifice his time again for one of Bruce's _pals_. "There is no–,"

Bruce cut him off patiently, as though he were speaking to a five year old, "For as long as our guest is staying with us, you will show said visitor around."

"No way," Dick said firmly, walking around the couch towards the stairs that lead up to his room, "I'm not doing it, Bruce," he called behind his shoulder, "Not this time. Go hire a tour guide for your friend, because I've got too much on my plate to play entertainer."

"And, this, young Miss, is where we end the tour," Dick heard Alfred's voice from the other side of the room. He resolved to keep walking without so much as a 'hello' to the guest; start his rude company early this time.

"Oh, that informative journey around your place of residence was more exhilarating" a cheery, and very familiar, voice stopped Dick dead in his tracks. "I thank you, Al-fred!" Slowly, Dick turned, his body and face hidden in the shadows of the room, as his eyes skimmed over the image of the redheaded girl he had bumped into at the mall. _She_ was a guest of Bruce Wayne?

"It was my pleasure, Young Miss," Alfred's gentle voice said politely as he fatherly patted the girl on her arm with his white-gloved hand.

"How did you find your accommodations, dear?" Bruce's voice held an uncharacteristic tone of affection that almost knocked Dick off his feet. Before Dick's eyes, the girl turned to his guardian and, if possible, smiled brighter.

"It was most spacious and plentiful of my living necessities, Mr. Bruce Wayne," the girl clapped her hands in front of her, looking very pleased.

It was then her eyes caught Dick's dark form. She turned to peer curiously at him, causing Bruce's and Alfred's eyes to follow her gaze. Biting back a curse, Dick obliged to Bruce's silent command when he wordlessly motioned him towards the three, out of the dark.

The girl's eyes brightened once more, excitement and delight practically screaming from her aura. "You are Richard!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands even tighter in front of her, almost beside herself with unconcealed glee, "Glorious!" She, to the great astonishment of all three men in the room, rushed over and threw her arms around his shoulders, enclosing him in a great– _incredibly_ strong– hug.

Whether it was because Dick was being hugged by a beautiful girl, or because she was holding very, very, tight, he was rapidly losing his breath. Catching sight of Dick's quickly reddening face– a creation from the lack of oxygen Dick wasn't receiving– Bruce stepped forward and asked, "You know each other?"

His question made the girl pull back from Dick, who in turn instantly gulped for air, but found himself missing her warmth nonetheless. "This is Richard," she stated, politely indicating him with her opened hand, "He and I struck one another unwillingly at the mall of shopping this very noon thereafter."

Inwardly, Dick groaned, knowing his day had just been revealed without his help. He shot a quick look at Bruce, who looked back at him with an unwavering gaze, obviously thinking back to their conversation a few moments prior, "Without reason, indeed, Richard."

Dick cleared his throat, waiting for a light scolding, crossing his arms again and leaning calmly back against a gently decorated wall. He couldn't for the life of him, though, keep from stealing a few glances at the still beaming girl.

Surprising Dick for the umpteenth time that day, Bruce let the topic drop, going on with a, "Richard, Koriand'r will be accompanying you to school from now on until her stay with us has come to an end."

Before Dick could audibly ask him who 'Koriand'r' was, said girl turned to him again and said promptly, "Oh, yes, in my moment of euphoria, my introductory term had retreated from my brain." With another great smile, she stuck out her hand and said, "I am Koriand'r, Richard."

"Is there a last name to go with that?" he asked with a raised eyebrow, looking between Bruce and Koriand'r curiously as he distractedly took her offered hand. As he shook it, though, his distraction slowly diminished until practically all he was focusing on was the soft skin.

"No," Bruce answered simply, shortly– basically, a traditional answer– pulling Dick from his trance.

"My name is Koriand'r," the redhead spoke again, slightly confused at the 'last name' question, "It is my complete introductory term. Is not your complete introductory term 'Richard', Richard?"

Despite himself, Dick smiled slightly, overlooked her unusual diction, and said, "Actually, it's Richard Grayson." He paused before going on, "You can just call me Dick, or Robin," he shot a quick, smug glance over at the owner of the manor.

Bruce let himself roll his eyes and shake his head. Dick could catch only a slightly scoffed mumble of, "Robin," fall from the older man's lips.

"Dickorrobin," Koriand'r repeated simply, still grinning from ear to ear.

Shocking not only Alfred, but Bruce as well, Dick let out a genuine laugh. The estate hadn't heard Dick Grayson's real laughs bounce off it's cold, hard walls for a good few years. Usually, his laugh was cold, or sarcastic. Koriand'r hadn't noticed the way Alfred's snowy brows rose well up to his receding hairline, or the way Bruce's hand, which held the glass of Chardonnay, slowly fell back down to it's side, ungracefully allowing some of the liquid drip from the sides to the floor. Dick had, though, and simply ignored them, content enough to just stare in slight awe at the redhead.

"Just call me Robin," Dick spoke, his laughs ceasing, but a smile playing around his lips.

"Robin," Koriand'r allowed the two syllables to roll of her tongue slowly, as though testing out the feel of saying it.

"It's nice to meet you, Koriand'r," Dick frowned, then said, "Koriand'r. . .what is that? Like Greek or Russian?"

"Please," Koriand'r said after blinking twice at Dick curiously, now turning to look at Bruce questioningly, her head tilted to the side slightly, "What is this 'Gree–,"

"Richard," Bruce cut her off, turning to the younger guy, who gave Koriand'r a queer look before looking to him, "Why don't you start on your training for the evening. . .I'm assuming you didn't receiving any homework for tomorrow– seeing as how you didn't attend too many of your classes anyways." Alfred started forward to set up the training room, giving Dick a comforting smile as he passed by.

Dick shot Bruce an annoyed look before following Alfred out of the room.

* * *

A/N: Just reposted with Starfire's correct spelling. Thanks, Princess Starfire of Tamaran, for pointing it out. 


	4. Control

"Alright, Bruce, want to fill me in on all this?" Grabbing a piece of toast, Dick forced the entire thing into his mouth before plopping down at his usual seat. Breakfast with Bruce Wayne had always been brief; a time of contest to see which of the two equally stubborn men could finish their filling first and leave the other to eat the rest of his himself. Today, though, Dick wasn't reaching for the first place position. He wanted answers.

"Fill you in on what, Richard?" Bruce asked calmly after taking a drink from his glass of orange juice. Clearing his throat softly, he reached over and brought an issue of Gotham City's newspaper up to him, opening the flimsy pages indifferently.

From behind his sunglasses, Dick narrowed his eyes and glared at his mentor. "Fill me in on what?" he repeated snappishly, "Fill me in on Korien– Korin– Kori!" he exploded through the frustration of mispronouncing Koriand'r's difficult, original name. Rubbing his forehead to keep his calm– after all, the redhead could be appearing at any moment, and for some reason, he did not want her to see him loose his temper– Dick said in a controlled voice, "Who is she? A niece, cousin? Your _daughter_, God forbid," he gritted his teeth, once again feeling a slight pang in his gut. Bruce had never cared to reveal much of his life to Dick, his complete family, included. All he knew was Alfred was the closest thing to a father Bruce had.

"No," Bruce spoke from behind the paper, his tone showing no offense to the way Dick spoke to him. Patronizing. Lord, how Dick hated that. "Koriand'r is not my relative." He turned another page. "She is simply my guest."

"Where is she from?" Dick asked, genuinely curious.

"Out of town," Bruce said shortly, putting his paper down and staring at Dick straight on, "And that's all you need to know."

"Out of town," Dick repeated in a mocking town, "Well, I think that much is obvious. She talks. . .different."

"Everyone talks different, Richard," Bruce explained in the same patronizing tone, taking a bite of his eggs. His eyes pierced through Dick's sunglasses as though trying to read his thoughts.

"Yeah," Dick struggled, becoming frustrated, "But–,"

"What a glorious morning!" the familiar voice of Koriand'r wafted through the air, as sweet as the pleasant aroma of pancakes in the air. Instantly, Dick shut his mouth and leaned back in his seat, his eyes glued to the vivacious female. Wearing the same plain, white T-shirt and blue jeans– both two sizes two large, it appeared– as the day before, the girl practically floated into the room, grinning at both Bruce and Robin in turn. "I wish you the morning of goodness, Mr. Bruce Wayne, and to you, too, Robin."

"How did you sleep, my dear?" Bruce asked in that same uncharacteristic voice. By all rights, Dick should hate this girl beyond doubt. She arrived at the manor– judging by the evidence, uninvited as well– and he was suppose to escort her around. And now Bruce spoke to her as though he. . ._respected_ her, or something. Stranger things have happened, but never in Dick's time with Bruce had he seen the older man look at another human with such gentleness, compassion, such warmth. Hell, he was lucky if he even got a glare his way.

For a reason, though, Dick tried with all his might, but failed to feel even a hint of rage for Koriand'r. In fact, he was pretty sure he was staring at her with the same amount of warmth as Bruce. With the three of them grinning at one another, Alfred made his appearance at that moment. He stopped just at the entryway, shocked. Pealing his gaze away from Koriand'r, Dick looked over at Alfred. The poor older man was holding a crystal pitcher of orange juice in his hands, staring at them with bemusement.

Koriand'r followed Dick's look and instantly rushed over to the old man. Throwing her arms around him in a great hug, she exclaimed, "Morning of the good I wish to you, Al-fred!" Alfred, already use to Koriand'r's behavior, easily held the pitcher away from them so as to avoid the contents from spilling. Patting the girl's back with the one hand available, Alfred smiled warmly at Koriand'r.

"And good morning to you, too, Miss Koriand'r," he replied.

Koriand'r beamed. Pulling away, she walked back to the table, where Bruce motioned an empty seat to his right.

"Please, join us, Koriand'r," he said cordially. Koriand'r obliged, but not before she made quite a show of poking at the leather cushion on the seat, and running her fingers across the grooves of the flawless carpentry sketched on the mahogany wood. Once she was seated, Alfred came around the table and poured some of the orange juice he had been carrying into a glass placed in front of her. Instantly after Alfred had brought the pitcher back to his chest, Koriand'r leaned forward, her nose practically pushing the full glass as her eyes skimmed over the orange liquid with seemingly rapt attention. Hesitantly, she picked the glass up, twirling it between her palms. Curiously, she brought it up to her face and slowly inhaled the scent.

Dick, who had been watching with just the same amount of interest Koriand'r had shown with the glass of orange juice, abruptly turned his gaze to Bruce. His eyes hardened upon the older man, screaming for answers at the girl's odd behavior. He quirked an eyebrow, prompting silently to be acknowledged. Bruce gave him no notice, simply going back to his breakfast as though Koriand'r's mannerisms were normal.

Leaning back into his seat, moody once more, Dick took to pushing his food around his plate with his spoon. His eyes would occasionally dart to Koriand'r, who was _still_ inspecting the orange juice. Somewhere in between the time she had sat and become taken with the beverage, to that moment, Alfred had come back and fixed her a breakfast plate. Finally, Dick's resolute to keep his mouth shut and make no polite attempt of conversation as an act of protest against Bruce diminished.

Unable to keep the slightest sliver of amusement from his voice, he asked the redheaded girl, "Do you not like orange juice, Koren. . .Kornia. . .er," he trailed off, thoughtfully. Koriand'r pulled her gaze from the juice and looked at Robin questioningly. Dick switched questions, "Is there any sort of nickname I might call you?"

"Please," Koriand'r asked, sweetly naive, "what is this 'nickname' of which you speak?"

Dick stared at her silently, waiting for some sort of punch-line to this obvious joke. When none came, he blinked, his lip quirked up on one side. "Are you. . .serious? I mean, really?" Koriand'r just stared at him blankly. As their silent staring contest went on, Dick noticed Koriand'r's shoulders slumping ever-so-slightly from embarrassment. Quickly, he dropped his cold demeanor, his eyes softening as he rushed, "Hey, um. . .how about this. . .can I call you something like. . .I dunno, Kori?"

"Whom is this Kori? Do I have familiar facial features of this Kori?" Koriand'r was quick to ask.

"Just go with it," Dick urged, looking from Bruce to Koriand'r for a moment. "I'll call you Kori from now on, okay?"

"O- kay," Kori replied with a confused nod.

Bruce cut in with a small cough, "I don't mean to interrupt, but Richard, you're not going to be late for school again after that little episode from yesterday." His eyes turned to Koriand'r as he went on, "And I'm sure Koriand'r wouldn't appreciate missing her first day. You'll need some extra time to show her to the office and whatnot as well." His gaze penetrated straight through Dick's sunglasses once more, pointedly.

Dick sighed and rolled his eyes, throwing down the half-eaten piece of toast in his hand. He looked over to Kori, who had taken to inspecting the uneaten food assortments on her plate. "C'mon, Kori, we've got a long drive–," he broke off, looking to Bruce, and asking, "You're still letting me take my motorcycle, I assume."

Bruce wordlessly nodded.

Dick continued to Kori, "We've got a long drive to Jump City."

Koriand'r nodded vigorously and jumped up from her seat. Dick eyed her outfit, but kept his mouth shut. She'd probably get an earful from Julie and Kitten should he introduce Kori to his gang. Whatever, they were going to be late if Dick said something now.

Alfred saved him the trouble by coming in to the room once more with a quick announcement, "Miss Koriand'r, I've taken the liberty of placing some appropriate attire on your bed for this day."

"Glorious!" Kori threw her arms around Alfred's form as an act of gratitude. Alfred simply smiled and took a step back, beckoning her to follow him. Before she left his sight, Kori looked back to Dick and said with a large smile on her face, "My return shall be only momentarily, Robin."

As soon as she was out of sight, Dick fell back into his seat once more and slumped against the back of it, staring dully at Bruce.

* * *

"Sometimes, Genevieve, you make it so easy to hate you," Raven mumbled darkly as she roamed the halls of Jump City High. "When I get my hands on you. . ." she trailed off, fire burning in her eyes. She knew she was going to be late for class. But, other things simply couldn't be overlooked at that moment. First on her agenda was to seek out that wench and choke the life out of her. Last night, Raven actually had to sneak out of her home, having had another row with her parents, namely her father this time.

She'd gone through hell to make it to the club on time. The fall she had while climbing down the tree from the window in her bedroom had left a nice little bruise on both her knees. She had to outrun a dog on one of the side roads. And, lastly, when she realized she had either been ditched, or she had misunderstood the meeting time with her clan, Raven found out Genevieve actually gave her the wrong address.

"Wench," Raven hissed under her breath, looking straight at a passing sophomore, who in turn gulped and clutched her books tighter to her chest before rushing off in the other direction. Raven could be very intimidating when she was truly upset. At her sides, her fists were clenched tightly, shaking with rage.

"Dude, I can't believe this was the only thing you had!" a voice screeched from her right. Raven's eyes lit with fire, thoroughly annoyed. To keep her calm, and not slam random people against their lockers– a fate saved solely for Genevieve when Raven found her– Raven flexed her fingers and squeezed them into fists over and over.

Behind her, a crowd of lively students bellowed laughs. A quick glance behind her showed the same small freshman she had seen yesterday in a ridiculous spandex suit of black and pink. Humiliating, and degrading.

"The pink brings out the green in your skin, Girly-boy," she heard a deep, male voice coo mockingly. It wasn't too odd to see a few quirks and eccentricities with the student body. This younger boy, in fact, had green skin and hair. Different it may be, it was nothing in comparison to the ever intimidating Fang, with his _very_ peculiar look, or the very popular Vic Stone, half machinery. That was the way Jump City was. After all, being a suburb of Gotham City, the odd thing would be if Jump City was completely normal.

Filled with righteous anger, Raven growled under her breath. This school was too into popularity vs. unpopularity. The admired people of the school were treated as kings and queens, and anyone else, their court jesters, living to do their respected will. Last time Raven checked, monarchy wasn't tradition in the USA.

As Raven continued along, she failed to notice the laughing bystanders all trip and fall to the ground as a shockwaves passed by them. She was too busy zoning in on a lone figure taking some books from her locker.

"Genevieve," Raven grumbled under her breath, striding over to said girl. Taking all her willpower, Raven didn't slam the girl against her locker as she so desperately wished to. Instead, she stood silent behind Genevieve, waiting for her to close her locker and turn around. And, turn around she did.

Jumping slightly from initial shock of seeing someone standing right behind her, Genevieve placed a hand against her heart. "Roth," she said in greeting, beginning to smile coolly. "Didn't see you at the club yesterday night. What on earth happened?" she asked, staring unwaveringly into Raven's angry eyes.

Raven took a step forward, Genevieve took a step back. "You ditched me. _That's_ what happened."

"Oh Raven," Genevieve sighed heavily, adjusting her books in her arms, "I waited for you, but you never showed up. Quentin was disappointed."

"Oh really?" Raven said bitingly, stepping closer yet. "Well, did you tell him that _you_ gave me the wrong address, or the wrong time? Because either way, I went through hell to achieve _nothing_ last night, and it was because of _you_."

Genevieve's well-concealed malevolence was quick to make its appearance at Raven's accusations. Just as she was about to open her mouth to make a sarcastic remark, a new arrival approached. Quentin, his blond highness, primly put his arm around Genevieve's shoulders and kissed her cheek. "Hey Genevieve," he mumbled, turning his steely eyes to Raven and continued politely, "Raven, didn't see you there last night. Missed a hell of a show."

Genevieve, just as Raven opened her mouth to respond with an accusation for her, turned and dropped her books to the ground as her hands laced into Quentin's hair. She pulled his head down to meet her lips with his, passionately. Raven took a step back in shock. Her heart thumped erratically in her chest, overwhelming emotions spilling wildly.

"Raven," Genevieve said, amused, after pulling away from Quentin, "I forgot to tell you. . .last night," she turned to Quentin and began to trace circles on his chest affectionately, "Quentin and I finally admitted the one thing everyone's known all along."

"We're crazy about each other," Quentin murmured, brushing his lips against her cheek.

'_Not everyone. Not everyone knew about your precious feelings for one another,'_ Raven thought glumly to herself, trying desperately to control herself.

"I really do wish you were there, Raven" Genevieve said softly, with a small, lopsided grin pulling her lips, "yesterday was amazing."

That was it. All self-control flew out Raven's window, leaving behind shuddering lockers and walls. As Raven clamped her eyes shut and tightened her fists, shaking with fury, a large wave of energy passed through the halls, causing many students to shriek in surprise and fear.

"An earthquake!" a few shouted.

"In Jump City? Get real!" someone shouted.

Quentin and Genevieve clung to one another, curiously looking around, oblivious to the distressed girl in front of them, desperate to make sense of anything.

Finally, after nearly a whole minute of chaos, Raven's eyes snapped open, and she gasped and panted for air. Everything calmed, save for the words falling from the disturbed kids' mouths. Taking a moment to stare dully at Genevieve and Quentin, who were now exchanging spit as though there were no tomorrow, Raven quickly rushed off, confused, scared, and numb.

* * *

"What the hell was that?" Grant asked Vic as the two stared, dumbfounded, around the populated hall.

"Man, I have no idea," Vic exclaimed, blinking. "Jump City don't get any earth quakes. . . what else could it have been, though?"

"We could obsess over this all day and probably never find an answer. For now, let's just leave it to the gossip stream and we'll know within three hours," Blake said, losing interest in the past few minute's events, "Let's go. The sooner we get to class, the sooner we can leave. It's too damn nice outside to waste it indoors learning about dead guys and proofs."

"Class isn't for thirty minutes. What'd'ya wanna do? Wait in the classroom?" Vic asked, taking out a football from his locker and beginning to toss it back and forth between his hands.

Grant took the football from his and said, "Screw that, let's just head out to the field for a while and toss it around."

Blake shrugged his shoulders and nodded his head, "Sure."

The three began walking occasionally stopping to pull a few other guys from the hall to join them.

* * *

A/N: there you go, hope you liked. 


	5. The Spandex Attacks!

"How're things down at the garage? Yani need another worker, yet?" Grant asked, forcefully throwing the football to his right. Jacob, another guy from their football team, jogged over and joined in the elementary game of catch with them. After nodding his head in greeting to Jacob, and yet another guy, Eric, Blake turned back to see the football fly straight over his head and continue to fly for quite a few more yards.

"Man, you suck," Blake scoffed, folding his arms in front of him, his grey, hooded sweatshirt fitting his form casually and comfortably.

"Dude," Jacob said in his deep, baritone voice, staring with impressive appreciation at the ball almost too far away to see, "that didn't suck. It was damn awesome. You've got a bitchen' arm on ya, man."

"Why do you think everyone says I pull the weight of the team?" Grant said arrogantly, grinning.

"Yeah, whatever punk," Blake said, his stature still stiff, "Get the damn ball."

"You get it. You're the girl that didn't catch it to begin with," Grant countered.

"I dunno, man. I talk to Yani yesterday night. Said he'd think about looking over your application," Vic replied to Grant's earlier question, the previous conversation ignored. Shaking his head with some sort of amusement, Vic went on, "I don't think he remembers the time I took you there last year; ya know, when you hit on his wife?"

"No one with Yani's looks deserves such a young, beautiful woman," Grant defended himself, grinning arrogantly.

"What was it that she looked like?" Jacob asked pensively, catching the football easily, "Long, endless legs–,"

"Full, pouty lips–," Blake cut in dreamily.

"Dazzling blue eyes–," Vic put in.

"Large, ample bre–," Eric was cut off by a low whistle from Blake.

"Holy shit," exclaimed Blake, almost missing the throw by Vic towards him. Only just catching it, he planted the football firmly under his arm and pointed his finger in the direction toward the school, "Dudes, take a look at that fine, delicate redheaded specimen."

Instantly, all the guys present turned their attention to the indicated direction.

"Who, the babe with Grayson?" Eric asked, almost drooling.

"Man, she makes Yani's wife look like Stewart's grandmother," Joel, another guy present laughed, leaning against a tree, not taking his eyes off of Kori's form as she made her way naively towards the entrance of the school. Before their eyes, she took in the excitement and sights of their school, her green eyes sparkling as she jumped around cheerfully. Richard gently took her arm to keep her attention from wavering too far away from what their first intention was at the moment.

"Watch it, Joel," Grant warned, taking and hurtling the ball towards the kid's head, hitting the target with satisfaction. Joel swore loudly, and glared Grant's way as he rubbed his head irritably.

"I think it's time to get to class, guys," Vic spoke, glancing at his watch.

Taking a drink from his water bottle, Jacob nodded and picked up the ball from the ground. They all joined the rest of the students, groaning and grumbling about the day ahead of them.

* * *

"Robin, do all female individuals in this hall optical deficiencies?" Kori asked, staring at the purple pack of back Alfred had placed alongside her new clothing with great interest. Slowly, she pulled the zipper of it back and forth, squeaking with joy each time the zippy sound intensified in her ear.

Richard, well aware of many eyes on him— more so than usual— and Kori, simply took to the new attention with a casual nod, and characteristically high-fiving a couple of people as they past by.

"What?" he asked, forcefully pushing aside a scrawny kid when Kori wasn't looking. The boy, blonde, pale, and trembling, only stopped shooting back when he came in contact with the grey lockers framing the hall. A great bang was heard, followed by a few snickers at his misfortune.

"Deficiencies," Kori elaborated matter-of-factly, "Many female specimen here are fluttering their visual aids at us."

"What?" Richard asked again, completely confused. He turned his head to where Kori's gaze lay, and found himself the main attraction of a group of sophomore cheerleaders, all who were winking at him flirtatiously. Any other point in time, with any other companion who wasn't Kori, Richard would have winked back and walked over to chat the ladies up. Right now, though, he had a mission: Kori needed her schedule.

"They're winking," he said, finding it a bit odd he had to explain the concept of winking to her. "You know. . .their flirting."

Kori blinked over at them curiously. Seeing her gaze, the girls turned to look at her, their eyes darkening, as though they could smell Kori's unfamiliarity at the school. One of the girls smirked at her and brought her hand up to wiggle her fingers at Kori in a sarcastic wave. Kori, in turn, smiled brightly and waved energetically back.

"They are friendly!" she exclaimed, hanging on Richard's arm in unconcealed glee. Richard walked quicker, away to the end of the hall so they could turn into another, away from the weird looks they were receiving.

"They're not friendly," he murmured, glaring behind his trademark glasses at a few plump girls dressed in sweats, their faces full of awe at the sight of Richard Grayson so close to them.

"Why do you say tha—," Kori began to say, but was interrupted as she was knocked violently to the ground, another individual right next to her. Looking beside her, Kori began to profusely apologize to the other girl dressed in black.

"Watch where you're going," the other girl snarled.

Richard bent down and took Kori's arm, gently pulling her to her feet as the dark girl picked up her books and stood up as well.

"Piss off, Raven. Watch where_you're_ I going," Richard snapped.

Pulling her backpack on roughly, Raven glared daggers at him and said angrily, stalking off anxiously, "I have more pressing matters to attend to than let my mind continue to rot in your presence, _Dick_ ."

"Let's go," Richard guided Kori away. The redhead continued to stare after the girl called Raven.

"Is she not of a happy nature, Robin?" Kori asked, finally looking back at Richard, "The words exchanged among you and she, I sensed, were not civil."

"Don't worry about her, Kori, some people here just have permanent sticks up their butts," Richard replied carelessly, opening a door suddenly, to reveal an office full of bustling people.

With wide eyes, Kori suddenly stopped, and, with much strain, turned her head to stare at her backside in horror. Snapping her head back to look at Richard, who had continued walking up to a lady, oblivious to Kori's pause, she said, "I should think that would be very painful, indeed."

* * *

A black-and-pink-spandex-clothed Garfield stalked down the hall, his usually green face feathered with a red glow as the words of students filled his ears. His hands, now fists, were all but glued to his sides angrily as he cursed his so-called 'friend' who gave him this suit.

"_It's the only thing I have today that would fit you," _Luke had said that morning, doing his best to hold back a grin of pure glee.

"Jerk," muttered Gar, throwing his hand out to shove a door open, walking down another hall. There, in the center, not forty feet away, was a medium-sized group of unbelievably sexy ladies— The Sophomore Simpers. All were chatting, their glimmering hair doing what it did best: entrance anyone who didn't have that hair. Yes, there they were, sex appeal just reeking off of them.

And there Garfield stood, dressed in something The Simpers could have considered their gym clothing. With a squeak, he hightailed it out of there, rushing past the first door he came across.

The first thing he noticed was the smell.

The next, the unmistakable white tiles, row of faucets and stalls, and a few mirrors.

The next, the sound of a toilet flushing.

And finally. . .

The lack of urinals.

Before he could get out of there, one of the stalls opened, and out walked a girl Gar only knew by sight. Pale skin, dark hair, dark clothes, and a glare so intense he could almost feel it pierce his heart. Swallowing nervously, Garfield rubbed the back of his neck and laughed weakly and helplessly.

The girl let her eyes trail lazily from the tip of his toes to the top of his head. With an eyebrow quirked, she walked over to one of the faucets and said in a monotonous voice, "You know. . .just because you dress like one doesn't mean you're a girl."

His airy chuckles ceased instantly, and his eyes hardened. Mumbling incoherent words, he turned and made to open the door. Before he could, the door opened for him, slamming his jaw slightly as it did so.

Moaning, he backed up, wondering if the day could get much worse. Blinking his now watery eyes, he stared at the newcomer, wishing fiercely that it wasn't one of the Simpers. She wasn't. But, she may as well have been, to Garfield's horror.

The only difference between the Simpers and this girl— save for the age, as the girl looked to be a year older than a sophomore— was the sweet, bright, cheery smile.

* * *

A/N: Sorry it's so short, but thanks everyone, for the reviews. Don't forget to do it again!

Oh, someone mentioned a possible BB/Rae ship. In response to that, I have to say sorry, but I only support Robin/Star fics.


	6. Some Time for Kori

Richard was careful to make sure Kori knew exactly what she was suppose to do after giving her the schedule of her classes. After leading her to a class filled with rowdy, energetic students, he reluctantly started for his own classroom. But, not before sounding like a worried mother, saying, "Okay, when class is over, just _stay here_ in this room. I'll come by and walk you to our next class."

She had responded with a cheerful, "Glorious! I cannot wait, Robin."

The class, which she had soon been informed of as Art, consisted of bright colorful substances, which she had been invited to smear across some white surfaces. It wasn't until her hands were dipped in a blue substance that she saw the rest of the children holding and dipping sticks into the blue stuff. With her grin ever present, she wiped her hands off on the white surface, and picked up a random stick, mimicking her peers.

The act was simply thrilling, and left her with complete and utter glee. She expressed her joy to her neighbor on her right, and was answered by a mere eyebrow quirk by the girl. The time ended far too soon to Kori, and for a moment, her smile drooped a fraction of an inch. With a chorus of bells, the students hurriedly picked up their mess and gathered their belongings. Kori again mimicked them, picking up a sparkly bag Alfred had given her that morning.

She had waited, as Robin requested, in the classroom. Soon, though, more kids she did not know filed in and took seats previously occupied by her classmates. As the minutes passed, more kids arrived. Eventually, the teacher appeared once more, and shooed the confused Kori out of the room.

Once outside, she noticed the halls were nearly empty. Wringing her hands, Kori glanced left to right for any sign of Robin. He was nowhere to be seen. Now frowning, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the white slip of paper a woman in the office– Richard had called her "Bitch" after leaving, so Kori assumed that to be her name (though, she hadn't looked like a female dog)– had given her. Schedule, was what everyone had called it.

Bruce had explained the concept of Earthling schools to her yesterday night before she retired to bed. She had caught on quickly, eager to experience his tales herself. Kori knew the thing she had just experienced was a 'class', mostly because Robin reminded her of the word. And Kori also knew that the professors of each class expected their students to arrive on time for each class. Kori didn't want to be late, and Richard still wasn't in view, so she began to search for the next class on the list herself.

She was quite lost, and her optimism was slowly diminishing. Looking up from the paper, Kori pushed open a nearby door and walked through. Her gaze perked up considerably– a green boy and the girl Kori had bumped into earlier that day with Robin were both standing in the small room.

"Greetings, friends!" she exclaimed, going for the green kid. Taking the hand he was using to rub his sore face in her own, she mimicked the movements Bruce had performed yesterday. The 'shaking of the hands' was a most pleasant action, and brought Kori a great amount of satisfaction.

"I am Koriand'r," she introduced herself to him, then looked towards the other girl. "You are Raven, yes? I remember from this morning."

Raven, whose eyes had widened considerably with the arrival of Kori, replied carefully, "Uh, yeah."

This was a first. This morning, when she and Kori had knocked shoulders, Raven was sure Kori had been of Robin's popular group. None of them, as far back as Raven could recall, had ever spoken to her so freely; and remembered her name after one meeting, at that. Kori was new, that much was certain. Raven, quite observant, had never seen her around. Even so, the fact that Kori had been with Robin that morning left Raven convinced he had recruited her into his group.

This left her confused. Kori seemed completely pure, so innocent; she seemed genuinely nice. What was Robin doing hanging out with her, then? He liked his girls snobby and conceited, last time Raven checked.

Caught up in her own thoughts, Raven missed a little of what Kori had continued to go on about.

"...and the colors were magnificent! I especially liked the purple and yellows," Kori explained to the green-haired kid, who looked shocked that someone as beautiful as her was actually talking to him. Suddenly, Kori paused, and the boy held his breath, waiting eagerly for her to continue.

"My apologies, friend," she finally said. "I have misplaced my manners. You know my introductory term– or _name_, as Robin calls it– but I do not know yours."

For the briefest of moments, Raven and the other kid glanced at each other, both curious about the way she spoke.

"Oh, I'm Garfield," he replied after a moment's pause, quite vigorously. And he was quick to add, to both Kori and Raven, "But you can call me Gar."

"Pleased to meet you," Kori replied so earnestly that Gar's chest swelled slightly with pride.

"Robin?" Raven spoke up finally. "You mean, Richard Grayson?"

"Yes," Kori replied brightly, clasping her hands in front of her. "That is right. He says that I may call him 'Robin'."

Raven blinked a few times. "Why would you call him that, though?"

"It is his..." Kori trailed off, struggling to find the right word. "It is his...nickname. Yes, his nickname."

Raven nodded, a frown plastered on her face.

The sound of the bell jarred all three of them. Raven picked up her bag from the ground; Garfield jumped; and Kori looked around for the source of these strange bells.

"Oh man," Garfield whined as he started towards the door, "I'm gonna be so late for Math. Mr. Gellar is gonna slaughter me– carnivore."

With that, he bolted out the door. A second later, he rushed back in, hesitated, then gave Kori a big hug. Raven rolled her eyes, but Kori beamed and hugged him back. Garfield pulled away, looking beside himself with delight as he once more rushed out the door. Luke was gonna be so jealous to hear that he hugged a friend of Richard Grayson. Luke was gonna be jealous to hear that Garfield was _friends_ with a friend of Richard Grayson. The day was rapidly brightening.

After Garfield left, Kori looked at her schedule once more and stepped in front of Raven before the girl had a chance to leave.

"Friend, might you escort me to my next class? I fear I cannot find the correct location; and I do not believe I waited for Richard in the proper location, for he did not show up like he said he would."

Raven raised an eyebrow, her frustration and impatience fleeing her a little. "Richard was suppose to show you to your next class? And never showed up?"

"Correct," said Kori.

Raven fumed, wordlessly grasping Kori's forearm and pulling her out of the bathroom and down the hall. She knew Richard ever since kindergarten. He wasn't always a jerk, but once middle school hit, Kitty and Fang befriended him. He was rude, cold to everyone, and didn't care about anyone but himself. And this only further proved her opinion.

"Let me see your schedule," Raven said, taking the paper into her own hand. Looking it over, she handed it back and said, "You're in my math class next. We're not gonna be that late, and Mrs. Jenkins isn't too unreasonable so we won't have detention."

Kori made to reply happily, but Raven beat her to it, concluding, "Okay, here we are."

The professor glanced over at the two as they entered; Raven took a seat, mustering up a small smile of apology. Kori stood there, looking around for an empty seat.

"Up here, dear," Mrs. Jenkins pointed to a desk by the window. Kori bounced over to the seat and sat down. The lesson continued, as Kori reached in to her bag and searched for a notebook and pen– Alfred had quite a time explaining the use of a pen yesterday night. Kori didn't understand why there were pens if people had pencils.

Listening with rapt attention for the next ten minutes, Kori, and the rest of the class, turned their attention to the haggard Robin staggering into the room. He looked windblown and warm, as though he'd run a few miles before appearing. Having shed his leather jacket, which was carelessly held in his right hand, his green t-shirt clung to him and made a few girls in the back giggle and whisper to each other.

"Sorry, Mrs. Jenkins," he murmured, running his hand through his hair a few times as he took a seat next to Kori. Mrs. Jenkins brushed him off and easily returned to her lecture.

Kori beamed, and said softly to not upset the class. "Hello, friend Robin. You are in this class as well?"

Robin's head snapped up in her direction, his eyebrows raising in surprise. "Kori," he exclaimed, then quieted down after a look from the teacher. "I didn't know if you'd find the room; I got held up earlier," he explained, pulling his notebook and pencil out. "You found the class easily, right?"

"Oh yes," Kori replied. "Raven showed me how to get here."

Robin frowned, stealing a quick glance over to where Raven wrote in her notebook. "Yeah?" he asked.

"Yes. I met her and Garfield in a small room with sinks and mirrors. They're very nice." Kori took this time to wave energetically at Raven. Raven either didn't notice, or pretended not to.

"Um, right," Robin replied, giving her a small smile and looking towards the teacher, waiting for the class to end.

* * *

A/N: Sorry about the wait 


End file.
